


Storytime

by beingbaz



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingbaz/pseuds/beingbaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they were together, back when, before, when Abby couldn't sleep, she'd ask him for a story. They haven't been together for years, but she's still asking.</p><p>A very dirty ficlet for the prompt: "You are everything I want, 'cause you are everything I'm not." (Taking Back Sunday, "Makedamnsure.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storytime

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All copyrights belong to their respective owners. I make no money from this, and merely wrote it for fun.

It was nearly two in the morning then Timothy McGee felt his back start to cramp up. Stretching, he realized he'd spent longer working on his newest book than he'd planned to. Standing, he took the sheet he'd been typing on out of his typewriter, skimmed it, and set it aside onto the “read and review” pile next to the shredded. He covered his typewriter, and started shutting off the lights in his apartment.

The sharp ringing of his cellphone sent him stumbling in fresh darkness for the green glow of his charging phone. Expecting the late night call to have something to do with work, he registered the number in his mind, answered the call saying,

“Yeah, Abs?”

“Tim?”

“Yeah, it's me. What's going on?”

“I can't sleep.”

When they'd been together, the nights where Abby's insomnia reigned were filled with one of two things: Either they'd make love with one another until dawn came or sleep claimed them, or he would tell her stories until she felt she could sleep.

She'd heard as much of Dumas' stories as he could remember, from the stories of D'Artagnan to “The Count of Monte Cristo.” She'd also heard what he could remember from any Austen story he'd ever told his sister, as well as Brontë's “Jane Eyre.”

“Want me to tell you a story?” Tim asked. Taking his phone and its charger with him, he felt his way through the dark for his bedroom.

“Yes, please.”

“I've got to put you on speakerphone for a second. Any one in particular?” he asked after turning on speaker phone and plugging the cord of the charger into the phone, and plugging that into a nearby socket in the wall.

“Tell me about Edmond Dantès,” she requested as he stripped down to nothing more than hunter green boxer-briefs.

Turning off his bedroom lights, Tim then climbed into bed, turned off the speaker feature, and set the phone to his ear. He settled back against his headboard, and began to speak, softly into the phone, telling he the tale of a man once in love, and falsely imprisoned, and the revenge he seeks on those he sees as have wronged him.

After a while, Tim can hear that Abby's breathing has evened, and she hasn't said anything for a time.

Softly, he said, “Abby? Abs?” Hearing no reply, he assumed she must have fallen asleep. He checked the time as it glowed brightly on his bedside table, and knew he needed to fall asleep soon himself if he hoped to get any rest before heading into work tomorrow.

He smiled, hearing her soft breaths. He missed her. Sure they were friends, but he missed it when they were together. When she'd let him love her.

Quietly, ever so quietly, he whispered, “Good night, Abby. I love you so much. Sleep well.”

He ended the call, set the phone down on his night stand, sunk into the mattress and let sleep take him.

Tim wasn't asleep for long. Less than half an hour later he was awakened by an insistent knocking on his door. Not even grabbing any of his clothes, walked through the darkness toward his front door.

He pulled back the chain without looking through the peep to find Abby in his hallway, dressed in her nightgown, her toothbrush in one hand, her farting hippo in the other.

“Abby, what--?” Tim tried to say, before Abby pushed her way inside, shutting and locking the door behind her. She took his hand and led the way back to his bedroom, saying again,

“I can't sleep.”

He was used to these calls, but she'd never shown up at his apartment for story time before.

“Okay. You could have just called me, you know.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, stepping into his bedroom, leaving her toothbrush on his dresser, and dropping the hippo on the floor.

As Tim entered, he tried to ask, “What story do you want?” when she turned, stepped into him, and put her mouth on his neck.

Tim felt himself harden immediately, felt his knees grow weak when she scraped her teeth lightly over the skin of his shoulder, felt his hands shake when he wrapped them around the black haired woman's back before he roughly took her mouth with his.

He kissed her, long and hard, putting all of the love he'd held for her all these years into it. She pushed at his single item of clothing, and he backed her towards his bed while pulling the nightgown up her body and over her head. Stripping her of the last of her underclothes, Tim nudged Abby back onto the bed, his mouth on her breasts and her hands in his hair.

He dug a condom out of the nightstand, shortly thereafter sheathing himself within her, and finding the rhythm he'd never forgotten which felt so good with her. When her nails scored down his back, her heels dug into the flesh of his ass as she pulled him closer, and Tim began to lose it. He pumped himself into her, using every trick in the book he knew to keep from coming. Hard, fast, slick, and warm, Tim finally began to feel the spasms that signaled Abby's release as it began. She came hard around him and he let her orgasm pull him into his own.

He lowered himself on top of her, his mouth finding the spot behind her left ear and planting a kiss there. She hummed contentedly in the back of her throat, her fingers tracing random patterns on the damp skin of his back. He turned his head and gave her a lingering kiss, tongues gently tangling.

He levered himself off of her, and settled himself alongside. Time passed slowly, as Abby excused herself to the bathroom and Tim took care of the condom. When Abby returned to bed, wearing nothing at all, Tim couldn't help himself. He had to know.

“Why?” he said quietly, stretching an arm out and inviting her to cuddle against his chest.

She did, and then said softly, “I heard you.” Her head rested on his chest and he ran his fingers through her black hair.

“Oh.”

“Tim? What would you say if I wanted to try again? Be with you.”

Silence fell for a moment as Tim considered what she said. His heart had picked up at the thought of it, but he had to be certain. “Abby, I said I love you because I do. I don't know if I can risk it again. I don't want to lose you. Why do you think I didn't tell you before?”

He felt her lips curve against his skin. “Why do you think I came? I still love you, and I want to try again.”

“I'd like that.”

“Good,” Abby replied, a happy sigh leaving her lips.

Tim was beginning to drift when he heard, “Tim? Tell me a story?”

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my LJ.


End file.
